Darcy had been tending to Coulson for nearly three weeks now. She spent all day down in his room and slept just over him in a small room, bare except for a shelf and a small cot. Coulson's room, on the other hand, was now equipped with the most comfortable couch Darcy had ever occupied in her life and an incredibly fast internet connection with a computer she was pretty sure wouldn't be on the market for half a decade. And a TV with more channels than Darcy even knew existed. As far as Darcy was concerned, she was in heaven.
She usually spent about half the day reading to him. She went through the Harry Potter books rather quickly. After them, she took on the Percy Jackson series, keen on keeping the hero aspect. She had read the books a while back and she was pretty sure Coulson would like them.
She followed those up with the Hunger Games, despite not knowing much about them herself. Jane had read them once and recommended them to Darcy, but the younger woman never got around reading them. Darcy had felt a slight pang when she asked for them, though. She hadn't seen or heard from Jane ever since she got here, being tightly monitored by Fury. She wasn't allowed to write to Jane and all her other contact had to be devoid of any information as to what she was doing.
She simply hoped the astrophysicist wouldn't take the radio silence too much to heart.
She also decided she wouldn't delve on the fact she was reading teenage literature to a man twice her age. However, while she did, she tried to imagine what he would say if he was awake with her.
The rest of the time, when her throat was getting sore and she needed a break, she'd open the TV to some show or another, laughing and commenting about it to him. She remembered Coulson's love of bad reality shows, and would sometimes put them on, maligning him all the while for his bad taste.
Or sometimes she would play on the computer. In these times, she would sit right next to him, keeping a hand on his arm or his leg at all times. Dr. Nguyen had told her Coulson's mind might be awake and feeling a presence with him would help him. Which meant Darcy did her best to cut her time away from him to the minimum, sleeping no more than 6 hours a night, usually four, taking on having a few naps on the couch instead.
There had been no sign indicating Coulson would wake up anytime soon, but according to the doctor and the research Darcy did, it wasn't a confirmation he couldn't wake up anytime soon. In fact, he was almost more likely to wake up when there were no positive signs going toward it.
So she stayed by his side, waiting. Fury would come down once in a while to talk with Coulson. Darcy would put in her ear buds and politely ignore them until she saw Fury exit by the corner of her eye.
Dr. Nguyen came at least once a day, to check Coulson's vitals, and make sure he was as healthy as could possibly be expected. She didn't linger, not since the first time after she explained Coulson's condition.
Darcy was droning on, just finishing the first book of the trilogy, when she saw movement at the corner of her eye. She raised her head, expecting to see Fury or Nguyen, doing their ninja trick. But there was no one there. She frowned, until she noticed Coulson's left hand. It was flexing slightly. Darcy straigthened, staring at it for a while.
"Coulson?"
The hand flexed again.
"Coulson, can you hear me?"
Another flex.
"Alright, flew you index twice for yes, and well, do what you want for no."
And miracle, his index finger flexed twice. Darcy forced herself to cut her happy giggle short, not sure in which mood the agent would be.
"I'm going to call your doctor now, okay?"
The finger twitched twice again. Darcy pushed the call button, and went back to watching Coulson.
"Can you do anything else? Open your eyes, move your feet? Flex once for no."
The finger moved once, and Darcy slowly put a reassuring hand on his arm.
"It's okay, Coulson, everything is going to be fine. You'll be back to normal in no time."
He didn't move again, but there wasn't any appropriate response to this that passed through yes or no. The door opened, and Dr. Nguyen entered, looking concerned.
"What's the matter?"
Darcy beamed at her, squeezing Coulson's arm once.
"He's awake."
The small woman sent a sceptical look to the lying agent.
"He is?"
Darcy rolled her eyes. She wasn't stupid enough to mistake a comatose person who hadn't moved in a week for someone who was awake.
"Alright Coulson, you have to show the lovely lady I'm not mad."
She could almost see him hesitate, considering leaving her hanging, but finally, deliberately, he moved his hand again. Nguyen was at his side in a second, moving so fast Darcy almost didn't see it.
"When did it happen."
Darcy checked her watch, uselessly since she didn't note the hour, and answered, hesitantly.
"About three minutes?"
The doctor nodded, checking the agent's pulse and his breathing. Darcy saw his hand tighten in a fist, and she rubbed his forearm, trying to be reassuring.
"Has he done anything else?"
Darcy shook her head.
"He said he couldn't."
The doctor paused to look at her.
"Said?"
Darcy shrugged.
"One flex no, two flexes yes."
The doctor raised her eyebrow, but spoke nonetheless.
"Agent Coulson? Can you hear me?"
Two flexes.
"I am Dr. Nguyen. Now I need you to tell me if you can see anything right now."
She opened his left eye, and waited. Two flexes. Darcy grinned, and leaned forward until she was pretty sure she was in his line of sight.
"Welcome back to the land of the living, G-Man."
The doctor, took out a syringe.
"I'm going put you under Agent Coulson, you need to rest. Do not worry, the rest of your bodily functions will come back with time."
He had barely time two give two flexes before she injected the sedative, and he went lax under Darcy's fingers. She smiled, and looked to the doctor.
"You should tell Fury."
The Asian woman nodded, and gathered her things.
"I will. Call me when he wakes up, or if anything starts beeping in a strange way."
Darcy nodded, and the other woman was gone.
OOOOOOOOO
Coulson's recovery was slow. A few days after his initial movement, and after a few yes-no conversations, he gained the use of his other hand, which didn't change anything except that it lightened his mood considerably that he was really improving and that it wasn't just Darcy and his doctor being reassuring. Darcy rolled her eyes at this, even though he couldn't see her, and scolded him for being a skeptical git.
She got the 'don't trust anyone secret agent' thing, but there was a point in life where you had to trust people, especially if those people are responsible for keeping you alive. Fury had come by a few times and told Darcy they should all be grateful Coulson regained the use of his hands and not his feet. Darcy simply nodded, and tried not to imagine the possibility of a blind, lost, and supposedly dead Coulson trudging through the headquarters.
A week after, when Darcy was once more reading to him, after Coulson assured her he liked being read to, that it helped with the boredom, he shifted. She looked briefly, to see if he was trying to tell her anything with his hands, but they stayed still. She arched an eyebrow, but went back to the story.
"'Arcy…"
She jumped, and stared at him.
" 'Arcy."
She beamed once more.
"Yeah, I'm here. What do you want?"
"Wa'er."
She jumped to get the glass, and slowly brought the straw to his lips. He latched on in greedily, drinking for a few moments. Finally, he pulled back.
"Thanks."
"Anytime, sir."
He frowned. She resisted the urge to hug him. It was the first time he demonstrated any kind of emotion since he woke up. Not that he was that transparent usually, but it was by choice, not because he wasn't able to control the muscles of his face. Then he rasped.
"Phil."
She frowned too, cocking her head.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Took care." A deep breathe. "A month." Another rasping breathe. "Call Phil."
Darcy opened and closed her mouth a few times.
"You want me to call you Phil?"
He nodded. She beamed at him.
"I can do that. Now stop talking, or you'll hurt you throat."
She went back to her book, noting the small smile that was tugging at the corner of Phil's mouth. It was her job to keep him entertained.
OOOOOOOO
"You look like hell."
Phil, being himself, against all medical orders, forced himself to talk as much as he could, so five days after, he had regained his vocal capacities, and earned himself a very, very irritated throat. Nguyen had given him a stern look he ignored, which she then transferred to Darcy. The young woman protested. It wasn't as if she could do anything. She doubted gagging him would be much of a use.
Phil had, after that, in his quietest and blandest voice, asked Nguyen to stop maligning his keeper. Darcy would cherish the look on the doctor's face for a long time. She thanked Phil with a big smile she knew he could hear in her voice. He answered quietly that he should be thanking her.
The point was she was browsing the internet when Coulson spoke. She turned, surprised, to see him watching her with tired, blood-shot eyes. She smiled and rolled her eyes at the same time, rolling her chair until she was beside his head.
"Agent Coulson, you are a true charmer."
His mouth twitched.
"Miss Lewis, I do believe you look exhausted. Would you by any chance consider taking a nap?"
She rolled her eyes again.
"So that you can bust out and go running around the carrier? I think not. How many fingers do you see?"
She raised four. He gave her a stern look, but answered nonetheless.
"Four."
She patted his head, earning herself an indignant hiss.
"Good Boy."
He sighed, and plopped back on his pillows. Darcy frowned.
"Anything you want to watch?"
He shook his head.
"I'll sleep now, Darcy, and you should do the same."
Darcy nodded, and moved to the couch, knowing he would give her hell if she didn't at least rest her eyes for a while.
Just when she was about to doze off, she heard a shaking breath coming from the bed, and what could be interpreted as a sob. She considered going to him, she really was almost up, but she decided he probably wouldn't want that. He wouldn't want her to acknowledge she heard him. He needed to tell himself she didn't believe him to be weak.
Not that she did. As far as she was concerned, Phil Coulson was the toughest bastard on Earth, but she doubted it would do him much good for her to tell him that. So she tightened the small blanket around herself, and allowed him the privacy to cry.
OOOOOOOO
"Hey, Elrond?"
Phil frowned to his tablet, before slowly raising his eyes to meet hers.
"Are you talking to me?"
Darcy smiled, and jumped on the bed, bouncing on the mattress.
"Yep."
He arched an eyebrow, demanding clarifications on how he managed to gain this nickname.
"Well, you're so totally an elf!"
His two eyebrows shut up to his airline, and he drawled, puzzled.
"I am?"
She rolled her eyes, sitting cross legged at the foot of his bed.
"Of course you are. I mean, everybody know you're old, but no one knows how old. You love being mysterious, and you always know more than us mere mortal. You're wiser than us. You kick ass. And you just won't die."
He was smiling now, amused.
"And that makes me an elf?"
"Yes. Elves don't die. So you can't die."
She leaned forward.
"Ever."
He gave her a fond look, before returning back to his pad, which she had been told held a report of what he missed during his convalescence. He talked without looking away again.
"I would have thought Fury would be Elrond, being the master of this place."
Darcy grinned, happy Phil was playing along.
"Nah, Fury's Galadriel. He's older, you never know what he's thinking, he's scary and you're not really sure you like him."
Phil snorted, still looking at his pad.
"I'm sure he would be enraptured by the comparison."
Darcy shrugged.
"Eh, Galadriel kick ass. And he already thinks I'm insane, anyway."
"It's reassuring he posted a mad person to take care of me."
She gave him a shrewd look.
"Look me in the eyes, and tell me a perfectly sane person would have accepted this job."
He simply laughed.
OOOOOOOOO
Darcy had wondered when someone else would discover Coulson was still alive. The agent had nearly recovered now; he could even move his legs, even though they were still too weak for him to walk on them.
They were inside an intelligence agency. Surely someone would notice something is amiss. But nearly two months had passed since the invasion, and still no one outside of her, Fury and Nguyen seemed to be aware Coulson wasn't as dead as everyone was lead to believe.
On hindsight, she should have known. Of course the first ones to figure it out would be the Avengers.
It had been a quiet morning. Phil had finished his physical therapy, washed, and had been watching TV ever since, intent on catching up with everything he missed. Darcy alternated between making fun of him, again, for his taste in shows, which was far more gratifying when he was awake and watching music videos on YouTube. This of course lead Phil to make fun of her taste in music.
She was careful how she pushed. Coulson was still pretty weak, and he hated it, so she always made sure to distract him from his limitations, knowing it wouldn't do him any good to remember what he couldn't yet do.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Both of them raised their heads, and looked at each other. Neither Nguyen nor Fury knocked, preferring to scare the shit out of Darcy as often as they could. The young woman slowly rose to her feet, and walked to the door, opening it gingerly.
On the other side stood a short man with spiky dirty blond hair, and the most amazing arms and shoulders Darcy had ever seen. She took a deep bracing breath.
Hawkeye. She decided to feign innocence.
"What can I do for you, sir?"
He frowned at her, eyes haunted and angry. She forced herself to stay still, and not to duck for cover. She hadn't done anything. She had no reason to be afraid of him. Despite of knowing this, she couldn't help shivering under the intensity of the stare. He looked like he was going to kill her simply for standing in his way.
"I want to go in."
His voice was rough, like he hadn't used it in a long time.
"I'm afraid you can't, sir."
He sneered.
"I'm going to see Coulson, kid. Just let me in."
Darcy swallowed, but straightened, doing her best to look the guy in the eyes.
"I'm sorry sir, but only authorized personnel may enter. You need to come back with a permission form signed by Fury."
Suddenly, a red-headed woman appeared just beside Hawkeye's shoulder. Darcy barely managed to restrain a squeal. The woman was at least as menacing as the man, her expressionless face promising a lot of suffering and no regrets at all. Darcy felt like a lamb thrown to the wolves. She reached to the doorway for support. The man leaned forward slightly.
"Director Fury made us believe for two months that Coulson was dead. I am going in."
Darcy was about to protest, until she heard a quiet voice inside.
"It's alright, Darcy."
She pinched her lips together and stepped back to let Hawkeye and the woman in. The red-head gave her another weighted look, indicating she was still considering elimination. They probably believed she was Fury's accomplice.
As if she could have told anyone, even if she had wanted. She hadn't seen anybody since she arrived here, always travelling between her room and Phil's. She hadn't even seen Jane, even if she knew the scientist had come on board to the carrier a couple of times since she went on baby sitting duty. She saw Hawkeye drop himself into the chair beside Phil's bed, the woman standing just behind him. Phil shot a calming look to Darcy, before speaking to them.
"Clint, Natasha."
Neither of them answered, but the woman-Natasha- went to curl herself at the foot of the bed, curving a hand around Phil's ankle. Darcy frowned at the invasion of what had become her spot. She stayed by the door, but kept watching them. She allowed Fury his privacy because he was is boss. Neither of these people had any influence over her, as far as she knew. And she didn't trust them. She didn't trust their eyes. Hawkeye sighed.
"I'm sorry."
Phil's eyes widened in alarm, and he tried to straighten, with a wince that Natasha caught, but that seemed to escape to the other man. Some Hawkeye. The red head tightened her hold on the ankle, warning Phil to take it easy. The older agent frowned.
"Whatever for?"
The archer's shoulder's tightened, and Darcy could imagine his mouth thin.
"For this. For the helicarrier, and the attack, and you. I'm sorry."
Phil sighed.
"It wasn't your fault Clint."
The man's head snapped up, and from her point of view, Darcy could see his jaw was so tense she was surprised he wasn't breaking any teeth.
"The hell it was. I did it. I lead them. If- If I had been stronger it- It wouldn't have happened."
He slumped back down, taking her head into his shaking hands.
"They would still be alive."
"No they wouldn't."
Phil' expression was stern, but Darcy could see the strain. She frowned.
"Loki would have found someone else. You weren't weak, Clint. I know you fought. There are just some things a human can't defeat."
Clint was hissing at that point.
"I should be better than this."
Phil frowned.
"Agent Barton. You are one of our best assets. But you remain human. And it is as much a strength as it is a weakness."
Clint bellowed.
"You were dead!"
Phil winced, which Natasha and Barton seemed to think was because of the shout, but Darcy could see he was started to waver. She made to move, but he stopped her with a look. Dammit.
"I wasn't."
Darcy felt that mentioning he did flat line twice wasn't the best idea. It wouldn't help anyone. Barton was up now, and pacing.
"You were as good as dead! For two months, you were stuck here, because of me, when I was able to run around. I should be in jail. I should be dead!"
Natasha hissed, and Phil snapped.
"No."
Clint paused, recognizing this tone for what it was: a signal that he was in trouble.
"I was stuck here because I decided to go face a demi-god alone, with an experimental weapon. It is my fault. I would have done the same if someone else had broken him out. I am glad to be alive, but I wouldn't have regretted death. I died for a good reason, and you had nothing to do with it. And you shouldn't be imprisoned for something that happened when you were under mind-control."
Phil leaned forward, ignoring the pain Darcy knew it caused him.
"And if you ever say you should be dead, I will make sure you regret it. We lost enough people without adding you to the lot."
Clint was shaking.
"You don't understand."
Enough was enough. Phil was a stupid argument away from collapsing, and Darcy had enough of this. She snapped.
"Agent Barton. A word."
He whipped around, glaring at her. She wasn't going to run away. No matter how much she wanted to. She wasn't going to let him exhaust Phil. He glared for a few moments, before relenting, and following her out of the room.
Once she closed the door, he snapped.
"What?"
She turned around, facing him.
"Look, Agent Barton, I understand you are going through a difficult-"
He sneered.
"Don't pretend you understand, kid. You know nothing about these things."
Darcy bristled.
"No, I don't. I'm a stupid kid who came from a comfortable childhood, had loving parents, and was perfectly normal. But it doesn't mean I can't take care of Coulson."
Barton leaned forward.
"Fury chose you because he knew you were irrelevant, and that no one would miss you."
Darcy ignored the way the words stung hard and sounded true. She straightened.
"This isn't about me, Agent Barton. This is about Coulson. He's still recovering, barely at the point where he can talk as it is.."
He shouted, face red.
"Because of me!"
She cried just as strong in return.
"I don't care!"
He bared his teeth, looking about to lung for her throat, but she wasn't having it.
"I don't give a damn if this is your fault or not. I don't give a fucking damn about your self-pity fest. The only thing I care about is Coulson, and making sure he gets better."
Barton was sneering, but interested despite himself.
"He can barely stay awake more than six hours by day, and moving anything hurts like hell. He's already depressed because he doesn't feel he's recuperating fast enough."
She moved forward, nearly nose to nose to him.
"I can barely keep him from exhausting himself to death. I really don't need a selfish bastard coming in and drag him down with him."
Barton recoiled liked he had been slapped.
"Selfish bastard?"
She sneered.
"Yes, you idiot. If you had paid any attention to Coulson, to anything other than your fucking self, you would have noticed how tired he is, how he winces all the time because he was hurting. But you didn't, because you don't care. The only thing you want is a fresh ear to gripe to."
Barton paled, and took a step back, face blank. Darcy wasn't done. She continued on a more subdued tone, glaring at him all the same.
"Now, if you would, Agent Barton, I'm going to ask you to leave and to stay away from here. Don't come back until you've aged enough to pay attention to something other than yourself and are able to be the friend he needs you to be at the moment."
Darcy couldn't understand the flashes of emotions going through Barton's eyes, while his face remained empty. She honestly didn't try very hard. She couldn't wait for him to disappear. He sneered one last time.
"This isn't your world, kid. Don't kid yourself. As soon as you're done being Phil's bodyguard, they'll throw you out."
He gave her a once over, before turning around walking away.
"They have no reason to keep someone like you."
Darcy had barely the time to wonder what he meant by that until she was whirled around tackled to the wall. All the air was forced from her lungs, and a forearm was pressed to her trachea.
The red haired woman was looking at her with ice cold blue eyes. If she could have, she would have swallowed.
'I'm going to die now' was the only thing she could think, staring into this unrelenting face. She doubted anyone would find her body. She didn't look away though. She didn't with Barton, she wouldn't with his companion either. Her father always said if you can't look people in the eye, you aren't respecting yourself.
The woman leaned in, whispering.
"If you ever, ever talk to Clint like that, if you hurt him again, I will teach you why they call me Black Widow."
Darcy did her best to talk with the pressing on her throat.
"I won't if he doesn't hurt Phil. Don't you care about him too?"
She pursed her lips and pressed harder. Darcy gasped.
"Silly child, this doesn't concern you. It's between me, Clint and Coulson."
Darcy breathed.
"I don't care how far back you three go: I won't let Barton hurt Coulson. I don't care how he beats himself up for this. It won't help anyone if he worsens the situation. He'll only blame himself more."
Natasha's grip loosed a bit and Darcy took the opportunity to take a huge gulp of air. The Black Widow glared at her for a few more moments before letting her go altogether. Darcy slumped on the floor, panting. The woman gave her one last hard look.
"Be careful, Darcy Lewis."
Darcy shivered. She wasn't even aware four words could be so threatening. After a few minutes, she found the strength to stand up again and went back inside the room. Coulson looked up when she entered, and frowned, obviously seeing something wrong. Darcy doubted the mark of Natasha's arm would appear so soon, so her expression must be telling.
"Darcy, is everything alright?"
She smiled reassuringly at him.
"Yeah, everything's fine. The Widow's frightening, it's all."
She wasn't too keen on admitting she almost choked her. Phil would be able to tell from the bruise, anyway, tomorrow. His frown deepened.
"Did sh-"
Darcy cut him.
"Don't worry, they'll be back, they simply need a bit of time to gather their thoughts."
Phil glared at her, but softened none the less.
"Thank you."
She spared him brief look while she settled in her computer chair once more.
"For defending me."
She shrugged.
"Couldn't let him undo all my hard work."
Phil pursed his lips.
"We need to have this talk, though."
Darcy gave him a hard look.
"It can wait until you're in better shape."
He nodded, knowing she wouldn't budge on this. He stared at her for a few moments, until she asked him what was wrong.
"Darcy, both Agent Barton and Agent Romanov are very hardened, possessive, untrusting people. They won't take kindly to you meddling in what they consider to be their business."
Darcy nodded, because yes, thanks, she got that already.
"Please, tell me if they do anything untoward or menacing."
Darcy nodded.
"I will."
He nodded, and settled into his pillows to sleep.
OOOOOOOOOO
The day after the two agent's visit, Coulson and Darcy were eating lunch, when suddenly the door burst open. They both jumped, Coulson going for his gun that wasn't there, and Darcy preparing to throw her knife at the intruder.
The man was about Coulson's age, with dark hair going in every direction. He was wearing expensive pants in smooth, shiny grey fabric and a dirty white wife beater. A strange goatee was adorning his face, and Darcy stared at him. He, on the other hand, was simply looking at Phil with eyes that managed to be at the same time satisfied, surprised, happy and angry.
Phil relaxed slowly.
"Mister Stark."
"You're alive."
Coulson rolled his eyes.
"Obviously."
Darcy was just computing the fact that she was seeing Tony Stark. Coulson didn't seem impressed, however.
"You're alive."
"You already mentioned that."
Stark cocked his head to the side.
"You're coming to live at the tower."
Both of Coulson's eyebrows jumped to his hairline, and Darcy choked. They spoke simultaneously.
"What?"
He waved a dismissive hand.
"Pepper would kill me if I let you stay here like a prisoner. And anyway, it'll serve Fury right for lying to us like that. You should have seen Cap's face. The man who makes Captain America look like that deserves punishment. Gather your things. You're leaving tomorrow."
Coulson pursed his lips.
"Mister Stark, I don't-"
"Tut tut, no discussion. I can make sure you're declared medically incompetent and name Pepper your guardian. She would be thrilled. So tomorrow, you're moving to the tower where the best doctors money can buy will threat you. That way, you can get a change of scenery and Pepper and the two assassins will stop glaring at me."
He looked around, and pursed his lips in disgust at the bareness of the walls, before looking back at them.
"Bring the cute nurse as well. I want her to give me sponge baths too."
He turned, and was about to walk out, before he looked over his shoulder. His voice was slightly strangled.
"I think I should say from Pepper, and Cap, and everyone else, w-they're glad you're not dead."
And he walked out for real this time.
Darcy watched him exit with wide eyes.
"Is he for real?"
"Sadly, yes."
"We're going to live in Stark Tower."
"Apparently."
"You're not going to protest?"
"Arguing with Pepper, Stark, Barton and Natasha at the same time would be far more trouble than it's worth."
Darcy nodded. And froze.
"I'm not going to have to give him sponge bath, right?"
"Absolutely not."